


Precious Things

by ThickThighedDrone



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Mild Gore, Sappy medic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-13
Updated: 2017-01-13
Packaged: 2018-09-17 03:58:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9303179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThickThighedDrone/pseuds/ThickThighedDrone
Summary: Flatline comes across something on the battlefield.





	

It wasn't anything new, seeing the large medic shove still warm and fuel stained parts into his storage compartments. The mechs were dead, they no longer had use for them so why let them rot in the filthy aftermath? Besides, free supplies. 

At the beginning of the war it was hard, too hard...like a chunk of his spark was chipped away with every corpse he scavenged. Now, he is numb. Pulling fuel pumps out of a greying frame felt as normal as booting up in the morning. The feel of processed energon slipping through his fingers was no different than the stream of solvent in the wash racks.  
The only time he gave pause in his requisition of parts was when he would stumble across a familiar ID number imprinted on a frame.  
He remembered every new-spark or youngling he placed into a frame or upgraded and he'd seen too many of those long serial codes in this war, too many that were still so young when Primus took them. 

He had taken a few as well.

“Turmoil wants us back on board, we're taking off soon as the engines are primed.” Flatline nodded his acknowledgement to the grunt passing by, shoving an intact pair of optics into another storage compartment. Autobot or not, optics were always a precious commodity. Especially when your commanding officer has no issue punching his troops in the face on a daily basis.

Ignoring the creaking in his knee struts, Flatline stood and took a moment to stretch before moving away from the freshly harvested corpse and back towards the ship. 

The mangled bodies on the burnt and pitted grounds seemed like normal accents to the terrain. Step over a helm here, go around an empty thoracic cavity there, try not to step in too many pools of spilt energon.

While stepping over a smaller puddle of life fuel, the large medic’s new instincts, forged in war, kicked in when a small splash came from the murky liquid. 

With one pede in mid step Flatline froze and slowly, cautiously, looked to the side. There it was again! Another smaller splash from something inside the puddle. 

His curiosity won him over, leading him to step back and kneel down next to the disturbed spot of fluid for a closer look. He almost missed the slight sparkle that peeked out through the muddled fuel, a flash of prism colored scales. 

“Oh wow...how in the pit did you…?” Tired optics lit a bit more as he stared down at the small crystal and metal fish. It was obviously in bad shape, but there it was, struggling to stay alive in its tiny little hole of fuel. This area may have been a pond before the fight, it was amazing that anything survived the aftermath. 

Not even thinking twice, he reached into his various subspace compartments and rummaged through his current salvaged parts until he found a decently intact small fuel tank. It didn’t take much to widen the opening of the intake valve and pinch close the output valve, making a quick container of sorts. It wasn’t fancy, but it’ll work well enough to get his new little friend back onto the ship. 

\------------

“The frag is this thing?”

Deadlock’s helm tilted from side to side as he stared through the clear glass of the small tank on Flatline’s desk. It was comical to see the normally intimidating second in command having a staring match with Flatline’s new pet.

“He’s a crystal betta. I found him while planet side in a puddle of slag. He’s pretty beaten up, but he’ll look gorgeous when fully healed.” 

“But, why? It’s just a tattered fish that came out of a puddle. Why even bother with it?”

Flatline put the datapad he was writing on down onto his desk and looked between Deadlock and the crystal betta. “Sometimes, you can find precious things within the dark and the filth that surround us. Yeah, most of his scales are broken and he looks like he’s been through the pit and back, but he’s obviously a fighter and wants to live.”

The dark speedster flicked his gaze to the medic for a second before looking down and away. Moving around the desk he didn’t bother asking before plopping himself down into the large medic’s lap then putting his dirty pedes up on the desk, knowing it drives Flatline insane. 

“You’re so fragging sappy,” Deadlock muttered as he made himself comfortable, managing to not smile as Flatline wrapped a supportive arm around his waist, “I’ll just blame that on you being a damn medic.”

“Or maybe I tend to like pretty things with a sad past.” He purred as he nuzzled the side of Deadlock’s helm.

CLANG!!

Okay, he may have deserved that elbow to the gut from the speedster, and he couldn’t help but chuckle as he noticed the crystal betta boasting and fanning what was left of his fins at the two of them.

He really did have a soft spot for things that were broken...broken yet so strong beneath it all.

**Author's Note:**

> I like to headcanon Flatline as being soft when it comes to things like mechanimals and sparklings...and I personally have a soft spot for bettas a.k.a. cup babies.
> 
> Also needed to throw my rare-ship in there because i love them so much~


End file.
